Louise de la Valliere

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter XXIX. Chaillot.

  Although they had not been summoned, Manicamp and Malicorne had followedthe king and D'Artagnan. They were both exceedingly intelligent men;except that Malicorne was too precipitate, owing to ambition, whileManicamp was frequently too tardy, owing to indolence. On this occasion,however, they arrived at precisely the proper moment. Five horses werein readiness. Two were seized upon by the king and D'Artagnan, twoothers by Manicamp and Malicorne, while a groom belonging to the stablesmounted the fifth. The cavalcade set off at a gallop. D'Artagnan hadbeen very careful in his selection of the horses; they were the veryanimals for distressed lovers--horses which did not simply run, butflew. Within ten minutes after their departure, the cavalcade, amidst acloud of dust, arrived at Chaillot. The king literally threw himself offhis horse; but notwithstanding the rapidity with which he accomplishedthis maneuver, he found D'Artagnan already holding his stirrup. Witha sign of acknowledgement to the musketeer, he threw the bridle to thegroom, and darted into the vestibule, violently pushed open the door,and entered the reception-room. Manicamp, Malicorne, and the groomremained outside, D'Artagnan alone following him. When he entered thereception-room, the first object which met his gaze was Louise herself,not simply on her knees, but lying at the foot of a large stonecrucifix. The young girl was stretched upon the damp flag-stones,scarcely visible in the gloom of the apartment, which was lighted onlyby means of a narrow window, protected by bars and completely shaded bycreeping plants. When the king saw her in this state, he thought she wasdead, and uttered a loud cry, which made D'Artagnan hurry into theroom. The king had already passed one of his arms round her body, andD'Artagnan assisted him in raising the poor girl, whom the torpor ofdeath seemed already to have taken possession of. D'Artagnan seized holdof the alarm-bell and rang with all his might. The Carmelite sistersimmediately hastened at the summons, and uttered loud exclamations ofalarm and indignation at the sight of the two men holding a woman intheir arms. The superior also hurried to the scene of action, but farmore a creature of the world than any of the female members of thecourt, notwithstanding her austerity of manners, she recognized the kingat the first glance, by the respect which those present exhibited forhim, as well as by the imperious and authoritative way in which he hadthrown the whole establishment into confusion. As soon as she saw theking, she retired to her own apartments, in order to avoid compromisingher dignity. But by one of the nuns she sent various cordials, Hungarywater, etc., etc., and ordered that all the doors should immediately beclosed, a command which was just in time, for the king's distress wasfast becoming of a most clamorous and despairing character. He hadalmost decided to send for his own physician, when La Valliere exhibitedsigns of returning animation. The first object which met her gaze, asshe opened her eyes, was the king at her feet; in all probability shedid not recognize him, for she uttered a deep sigh full of anguish anddistress. Louis fixed his eyes devouringly upon her face; and when, inthe course of a few moments, she recognized Louis, she endeavored totear herself from his embrace.

  "Oh, heavens!" she murmured, "is not the sacrifice yet made?"

  "No, no!" exclaimed the king, "and it shall _not_ be made, I swear."

  Notwithstanding her weakness and utter despair, she rose from theground, saying, "It must be made, however; it must be; so do not stay mein my purpose."

  "I leave you to sacrifice yourself! I! never, never!" exclaimed theking.

  "Well," murmured D'Artagnan, "I may as well go now. As soon as theybegin to speak, we may as well prevent there being any listeners." Andhe quitted the room, leaving the lovers alone.

  "Sire," continued La Valliere, "not another word, I implore you. Do notdestroy the only future I can hope for--my salvation; do not destroy theglory and brightness of your own future for a mere caprice."

  "A caprice?" cried the king.

  "Oh, sire! it is now, only, that I can see clearly into your heart."

  "You, Louise, what mean you?"

  "An inexplicable impulse, foolish and unreasonable in its nature, mayephemerally appear to offer a sufficient excuse for your conduct; butthere are duties imposed upon you which are incompatible with yourregard for a poor girl such as I am. So, forget me."

  "I forget you!"

  "You have already done so, once."

  "Rather would I die."

  "You cannot love one whose peace of mind you hold so lightly, and whomyou so cruelly abandoned, last night, to the bitterness of death."

  "What can you mean? Explain yourself, Louise."

  "What did you ask me yesterday morning? To love you. What did youpromise me in return? Never to let midnight pass without offering me anopportunity of reconciliation, if, by any chance, your anger should beroused against me."

  "Oh! forgive me, Louise, forgive me! I was mad from jealousy."

  "Jealousy is a sentiment unworthy of a king--a man. You may becomejealous again, and will end by killing me. Be merciful, then, and leaveme now to die."

  "Another word, mademoiselle, in that strain, and you will see me expireat your feet."

  "No, no, sire, I am better acquainted with my own demerits; and believeme, that to sacrifice yourself for one whom all despise, would beneedless."

  "Give me the names of those you have cause to complain of."

  "I have no complaints, sire, to prefer against any one; no one butmyself to accuse. Farewell, sire; you are compromising yourself inspeaking to me in such a manner."

  "Oh! be careful, Louise, in what you say; for you are reducing me to thedarkness of despair."

  "Oh! sire, sire, leave me at least the protection of Heaven, I imploreyou."

  "No, no; Heaven itself shall not tear you from me."

  "Save me, then," cried the poor girl, "from those determined andpitiless enemies who are thirsting to annihilate my life and honor too.If you have courage enough to love me, show at least that you have powerenough to defend me. But no; she whom you say you love, others insultand mock, and drive shamelessly away." And the gentle-hearted girl,forced, by her own bitter distress to accuse others, wrung her hands inan uncontrollable agony of tears.

  "You have been driven away!" exclaimed the king. "This is the secondtime I have heard that said."

  "I have been driven away with shame and ignominy, sire. You see, then,that I have no other protector but Heaven, no consolation but prayer,and this cloister is my only refuge."

  "My palace, my whole court, shall be your park of peace. Oh! fearnothing further now, Louise; those--be they men or women--who yesterdaydrove you away, shall to-morrow tremble before you--to-morrow, do I say?nay, this very day I have already shown my displeasure--have alreadythreatened. It is in my power, even now, to hurl the thunderbolt I havehitherto withheld. Louise, Louise, you shall be bitterly revenged; tearsof blood shall repay you for the tears you have shed. Give me only thenames of your enemies."

  "Never, never."

  "How can I show any anger, then?"

  "Sire, those upon whom your anger would be prepared to fall, would forceyou to draw back your hand upraised to punish."

  "Oh! you do not know me," cried the king, exasperated. "Rather than drawback, I would sacrifice my kingdom, and would abjure my family. Yes,I would strike until this arm had utterly destroyed all those who hadventured to make themselves the enemies of the gentlest and best ofcreatures." And, as he said these words, Louis struck his fist violentlyagainst the oaken wainscoting with a force which alarmed La Valliere;for his anger, owing to his unbounded power, had something imposingand threatening in it, like the lightning, which may at any time provedeadly. She, who thought that her own sufferings could not be surpassed,was overwhelmed by a suffering which revealed itself by menace and byviolence.

  "Sire," she said, "for the last time I implore you to leave me; alreadydo I feel strengthened by the calm seclusion of this asylum; and theprotection of Heaven has reassured me; for all the pretty human meannessof this world are forgotten beneath the Divine protection. Once more,then, sire, and for the last time, I again
implore you to leave me."

  "Confess, rather," cried Louis, "that you have never loved me; admitthat my humility and my repentance are flattering to your pride, butthat my distress affects you not; that the king of this wide realm isno longer regarded as a lover whose tenderness of devotion is capableof working out your happiness, but as a despot whose caprice has crushedyour very heart beneath his iron heel. Do not say you are seekingHeaven, say rather you are fleeing from the king."

  Louise's heart was wrung within her, as she listened to his passionateutterance, which made the fever of hope course once more through herevery vein.

  "But did you not hear me say that I have been driven away, scorned,despised?"

  "I will make you the most respected, and most adored, and the mostenvied of my whole court."

  "Prove to me that you have not ceased to love me."

  "In what way?"

  "By leaving me."

  "I will prove it to you by never leaving you again."

  "But do you imagine, sire, that I shall allow that; do you imagine thatI will let you come to an open rupture with every member of your family;do you imagine that, for my sake, you could abandon mother, wife andsister?"

  "Ah! you have named them, then, at last; it is they, then, who havewrought this grievous injury? By the heaven above us, then, upon themshall my anger fall."

  "That is the reason why the future terrifies me, why I refuseeverything, why I do not wish you to revenge me. Tears enough havealready been shed, sufficient sorrow and affliction have alreadybeen occasioned. I, at least, will never be the cause of sorrow, oraffliction, or distress to whomsoever it may be, for I have mourned andsuffered, and wept too much myself."

  "And do you count _my_ sufferings, _my_ tears, as nothing?"

  "In Heaven's name, sire, do not speak to me in that manner. I need allmy courage to enable me to accomplish the sacrifice."

  "Louise, Louise, I implore you! whatever you desire, whatever youcommand, whether vengeance or forgiveness, your slightest wish shall beobeyed, but do not abandon me."

  "Alas! sire, we must part."

  "You do not love me, then!"

  "Heaven knows I do!"

  "It is false, Louise; it is false."

  "Oh! sire, if I did not love you, I should let you do what you please;I should let you revenge me, in return for the insult which has beeninflicted on me; I should accept the brilliant triumph to my pridewhich you propose; and yet, you cannot deny that I reject even the sweetcompensation which your affection affords, that affection which for meis life itself, for I wished to die when I thought that you loved me nolonger."

  "Yes, yes; I now know, I now perceive it; you are the sweetest, best,and purest of women. There is no one so worthy as yourself, not alone ofmy respect and devotion, but also of the respect and devotion of all whosurround me; and therefore no one shall be loved like yourself; no oneshall ever possess the influence over me that you wield. You wish me tobe calm, to forgive?--be it so, you shall find me perfectly unmoved. Youwish to reign by gentleness and clemency?--I will be clement andgentle. Dictate for me the conduct you wish me to adopt, and I will obeyblindly."

  "In Heaven's name, no, sire; what am I, a poor girl, to dictate to sogreat a monarch as yourself?"

  "You are my life, the very spirit and principle of my being. Is it notthe spirit that rules the body?"

  "You love me, then, sire?"

  "On my knees, yes; with my hands upraised to you, yes; with all thestrength and power of my being, yes; I love you so deeply, that I wouldlay down my life for you, gladly, at your merest wish."

  "Oh! sire, now I know you love me, I have nothing to wish for in theworld. Give me your hand, sire; and then, farewell! I have enjoyed inthis life all the happiness I was ever meant for."

  "Oh! no, no! your happiness is not a happiness of yesterday, it is ofto-day, of to-morrow, ever enduring. The future is yours, everythingwhich is mine is yours, too. Away with these ideas of separation, awaywith these gloomy, despairing thoughts. You will live for me, as I willlive for you, Louise." And he threw himself at her feet, embracing herknees with the wildest transports of joy and gratitude.

  "Oh! sire, sire! all that is but a wild dream."

  "Why, a wild dream?"

  "Because I cannot return to the court. Exiled, how can I see you again?Would it not be far better to bury myself in a cloister for the rest ofmy life, with the rich consolation that your affection gives me, withthe pulses of your heart beating for me, and your latest confession ofattachment still ringing in my ears?"

  "Exiled, you!" exclaimed Louis XIV., "and who dares to exile, let meask, when I recall?"

  "Oh! sire, something which is greater than and superior to the kingseven--the world and public opinion. Reflect for a moment; you cannotlove a woman who has been ignominiously driven away--love one whom yourmother has stained with suspicions; one whom your sister has threatenedwith disgrace; such a woman, indeed, would be unworthy of you."

  "Unworthy! one who belongs to me?"

  "Yes, sire, precisely on that account; from the very moment she belongsto you, the character of your mistress renders her unworthy."

  "You are right, Louise; every shade of delicacy of feeling is yours.Very well, you shall not be exiled."

  "Ah! from the tone in which you speak, you have not heard Madame, thatis very clear."

  "I will appeal from her to my mother."

  "Again, sire, you have not seen your mother."

  "She, too!--my poor Louise! every one's hand, then, is against you."

  "Yes, yes, poor Louise, who was already bending beneath the fury ofthe storm, when you arrived and crushed her beneath the weight of yourdispleasure."

  "Oh! forgive me."

  "You will not, I know, be able to make either of them yield; believe me,the evil cannot be repaired, for I will not allow you to use violence,or to exercise your authority."

  "Very well, Louise, to prove to you how fondly I love you, I will do onething, I will see Madame; I will make her revoke her sentence, I willcompel her to do so."

  "Compel? Oh! no, no!"

  "True; you are right. I will bend her."

  Louise shook her head.

  "I will entreat her, if it be necessary," said Louis. "Will you believein my affection after that?"

  Louise drew herself up. "Oh, never, never shall you humiliate yourselfon my account; sooner, a thousand times, would I die."

  Louis reflected; his features assumed a dark expression. "I will loveyou as much as you have loved; I will suffer as keenly as you havesuffered; this shall be my expiation in your eyes. Come, mademoiselle,put aside these paltry considerations; let us show ourselves as great asour sufferings, as strong as our affection for each other." And, as hesaid this, he took her in his arms, and encircled her waist with bothhis hands, saying, "My own love! my own dearest and best beloved, followme."

  She made a final effort, in which she concentrated, no longer all ofher firmness of will, for that had long since been overcome, but all herphysical strength. "No!" she replied, weakly, "no! no! I should die fromshame."

  "No! you shall return like a queen. No one knows of your havingleft--except, indeed, D'Artagnan."

  "He has betrayed me, then?"

  "In what way?"

  "He promised faithfully--"

  "I promised not to say anything to the king," said D'Artagnan, puttinghis head through the half-opened door, "and I kept my word; I wasspeaking to M. de Saint-Aignan, and it was not my fault if the kingoverheard me; was it, sire?"

  "It is quite true," said the king; "forgive him."

  La Valliere smiled, and held out her small white hand to the musketeer.

  "Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the king, "be good enough to see if you canfind a carriage for Mademoiselle de la Valliere."

  "Sire," said the captain, "the carriage is waiting at the gate."

  "You are a magic mould of forethought," exclaimed the king.

  "You have taken a long time to find it out," muttered D'Artagnan,
notwithstanding he was flattered by the praise bestowed upon him.

  La Valliere was overcome: after a little further hesitation, she allowedherself to be led away, half fainting, by her royal lover. But, as shewas on the point of leaving the room, she tore herself from the king'sgrasp, and returned to the stone crucifix, which she kissed, saying,"Oh, Heaven! it was thou who drewest me hither! thou, who has rejectedme; but thy grace is infinite. Whenever I shall again return, forgetthat I have ever separated myself from thee, for, when I return it willbe--never to leave thee again."

  The king could not restrain his emotion, and D'Artagnan, even, wasovercome. Louis led the young girl away, lifted her into the carriage,and directed D'Artagnan to seat himself beside her, while he,mounting his horse, spurred violently towards the Palais Royal, where,immediately on his arrival, he sent to request an audience of Madame.